


The things we find here

by Fustercluck, shortstack (nimbleCustardlegs)



Series: Clint/Vladimir [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Prison AU, i swear i need to stop, its too much, this ship, we're in too deep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fustercluck/pseuds/Fustercluck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimbleCustardlegs/pseuds/shortstack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint Barton is sent on a mission to a prison, what he doesn't expect is to become cellmates with a Russian mob boss. What he really doesn't expect is to start liking the guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The things we find here

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop! 'nother Co-write with Amber (fustercluck) who I found out has an Ao3?! Anyway, hope you enjoyed, leave a comment/kudos or whatever! 
> 
> The working title for this was actually Prison Porn, so....
> 
> (edit: Fixed the repeats, sorry about that! Thanks to the anon who pointed that out) 
> 
> -Dan & Amber

In all of his years as an agent, Clint had never known a mission to be in a prison. He wasn’t sure if this was just Fury messing with him, or what. All he knew is that he was wearing a movie worthy orange jumpsuit, being led through jail and eyed at like fresh meat, and that he very much did not want to be here.

 

Vladimir had, of course, heard the rumors about the new kid coming in, how could he not, but he honestly didn’t care. As long as he followed Vlad’s rules (everyone knew that Vlad ran the place, not the guards) then they wouldn’t have a problem. What he wasn’t expecting was that the fresh meat would be shoved into his cell.

Clint tried to shut out the hollering as he was pushed into his cell, a sudden amount of ‘ooooh’s’ arising as the door fell shut behind him. He jumped a little at the sound and shot the guy sitting on one of the beds a look before moving over to the one across from it. “This one free?”

Vladimir stretched, groaning quietly. Great, now he would have to deal with this kid. “Whatever” He mumbled, flopping down and rolling to face the wall.

“I’d just really rather not get stabbed.” Clint huffed, testing the mattress a little (terrible, but not the worst he’d ever had) before he got up again and made a circle of the cell. This was getting old already.

“Just don’t fuck with me and let me use the toilet first and we’ll be fine.”

“Sure, tough guy.” Clint muttered, peering through the bars into the hallway. The sooner he found his mark, the better. Then SHIELD could get him the hell out of here already and he could return home.

Vladimir raised an eyebrow, grimacing. He hadn’t wanted to do this so soon. He was already pissed off and tired, and he just wanted to sleep. He rolled back over, sitting up. Unfortunately, the second he saw Clint’s face properly, he stopped. He knew just from looking at him that this poor kid would be eaten alive without protection. And, well, he was pretty good looking. So if Vladimir decided to make sure that he didn’t get murdered… It wasn’t because he found the guy attractive. Not at all.

Clint turned a little, catching the man’s glance and raising his eyebrows. “Do I have something on my face?” he wondered, turning back to the bed and glancing over Vlad’s stuff on the other side of the cell. At least he knew he’d have some money to spend in here, although not ridiculous amounts.

Vladimir just grunted, standing up and stretching. Spending all day beating on people or laying down wasn’t good for one’s joints. All he had was a pile of letters and a Russian book. He glanced over to the letters fondly, half-wondering when the next one would arrive. He knew Toly didn’t get a lot of chance to write, which was why he always looked forward to them.

Clint bit his tongue a little as his cellmate stretched out, fingertips nearly touching the ceiling. but any thought of how he absolutely would never be able to stretch out in here was gone from his mind as the man dropped his arms, eyes searching him. He couldn’t tell if the other guy was checking him out or no- it wasn’t like he cared at all. Nope.

**  
**  


“So… What’s your name, anyway?” Clint wondered, sauntering back to sit on the edge of his bed.

Vladimir hummed, sitting back down on his own bed, splayed out, as though he was trying to take up as much space as he could. “Vladimir.” He answered, finally.

“Clint.” Clint countered, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

Just then, a loud bell echoed through the building and Vladimir groaned loudly, dragging himself off of his bed and padding, still barefoot, towards the doorway.

“Do we get to walk around now?” Clint wondered, glancing down at the other’s bare feet with some confusion.

“No, it’s food.” Vladimir explained.

“Ooh, better.” Clint hummed, before remembering that he was in prison, not at home with a fresh pizza.

Vladimir laughed. “The food is shit. Not much to eat.” He told Clint as the lock on the door sounded and Vlad pushed it open with his hip gesturing for Clint to go first, and then dropping a hand onto his shoulder.

Clint was a bit surprised at the hand on his shoulder, but didn’t shrug it off. He’d rather not start making enemies on his first day “True. I should have been expecting that.” he sighed. “You sure you don’t want to put on some shoes, though?”

Vladimir glared at someone to the left of them, moving closer to Clint in the crowded hall and pressing his front into Clint’s back. “It’s fine. Anyone step on my feet, I will kill them, yes?” He muttered into his ear, keeping the hand on his shoulder.

“Right.” Clint nodded. Of course he got the cell with the resident lunatic. Of fucking course. “Got it. I’ll be careful.”

Oh, Clint had no idea. Vladimir was one of the most sane people in the place. “Here, left.” Muttered Vladimir. “Shortcut.” He explained as he steered Clint away from the crowd.

And the resident lunatic was getting him into a secluded area. “Shortcut.” Clint nodded again, following after the man. Well, if they fought, at least it wasn’t where anyone would see. “Do you always take this route?”

“No. Not often.” Was the only explanation he gave, steering him around the corner.

“Just when you want to shiv someone?” Clint tried to joke. It didn’t come out jokingly.

“Yes. Or when I don’t want everyone all over something I decided I wanted.” He said lightly, making him avoid a rather fresh-looking blood stain on the floor.

“Can I know which situation this is?”

“Guess.”

“Um.” Clint said. He took into account the possessive hand on his shoulder, and the lack of any stabbing implements - as far as he knew. He also took into account the fact that Vladimir looked like he could very much snap a neck with his bare hands, if he wished to. “Uh.”

Vladimir moved his hand from Clint’s shoulder to the back of his neck, rubbing his thumb abently over his collarbone. “That’s not a guess.”

Clint huffed a breath. “The second?” he asked cautiously. If it was the first, at least he wouldn’t have to wait for himself to die of embarrassment

He hummed in what sounded like agreement. He hadn’t even brought his knife with him anyway. Not that he would ever try and stab Clint. After all, most of the people here just followed his rules, but he wanted someone to- Okay and he’s cutting off that thought right now, that’s not a good thing to think when Clint’s back is right against his front nope nope nope nothing Toly naked okay okay nothing.

Well, shit.

Clint bit down on his bottom lip, keeping his eyes firmly ahead of him. “I guess that means I don’t get to pick my own seat at dinner? Do you  guys speak English at the table? My Russian’s kind of rusty.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You would not want to sit anywhere else anyway. And we will speak whatever language the conversation start in.”

“Guess I’ll be picking the language up again, then.” Clint murmured, mostly to himself.

After a moment, Vlad took a left at a fork, knowing full well that the fastest way to get to the mess hall was to take the right. Clint couldn’t know that, though. He had just arrived less than an hour ago.

“Aren’t shortcuts supposed to be… Shorter?” Clint said cautiously. It felt like they’d been walking for a while - longer than from the entrance to his cell, for sure, and they’d passed the mess hall on the way in.

“Sometimes. Maybe I did not use right word.” He said quietly, dropping his hand from the back of Clint’s neck to the small of his back.

Clint tensed up a little further when Vladimir’s hand slid down. The man was close enough behind him for him to feel his breath on his neck, and he was starting to reconsider if Vladimir really hadn’t brought any stabbing implements. “Could be. I think this would be a detour.”

Vladimir hummed thoughtfully. “I think that is right. Don’t worry, we will have seats.”

“This late?” Clint wondered, glancing back over his shoulder. “You’ve got to be a pretty big shot, then.”

“People are scared of me. Cannot imagine why, though.” Perhaps it was the fact that they didn’t know what he was in for. Or maybe it was the fact that he was Russian.

Clint just hummed at that, wishing they’d turn up at the mess already. Maybe it’d be around the next corner. He could only hope.

As it so happened, it was around the next corner. But, of course, Vladimir wasn’t going to let him get away with looking all… Well, as though they’d just had a pleasant stroll. He paused, grabbing hold of Clint’s shoulder.

“What?” Clint frowned a little as they stopped - he could hear the mess hall, something had to be up.

After a moment of debating exactly what to do (he had plenty of choices here, and it’s not like anyone was going to interrupt them), he used the hand on Clint’s shoulder to spin him around and push him back against the wall, an arm across his ribs keeping him in place with an unspoken threat to break them if he struggled too much. (After all, Vladimir liked getting his own way without anything going wrong).

For a moment, Clint was certain he was going to die - and then he wished he was, ready to push off the wall and start a fight before he forced himself to calm, inhale deeply, and follow his orders for one time in his life. He was supposed to lay low. Not attempt murder on his first day. He balled his hands up into fists against the wall, he could do this - and then he felt Vladimir’s hot mouth against his neck, sucking on his skin, doubtlessly leaving an enormous bruise.

Vlad planted one hand to the left of Clint’s head and left the other one pressed against his ribs, enjoying the moment perhaps a little bit more than he should have. Well, he needed to lay claim to what was his anyway, so what if he had a little fun with it? And anyway, these American prisons were boring, and Clint was the most entertaining thing to happen in the three years he’d been there.

Clint grit his teeth, trying to keep his breathing even and imagine himself anywhere but here, anywhere but in goddamned prison with some handso- some handsy, nosy, goddamned Russian pressed against him, acting like he owned him. When Vladimir finally pulled back he glared at him and rubbed at his neck, but he knew it wouldn’t make the mark go away. “Is that all?”

Vladimir grinned a shit-eating grin and sauntered away, turning back with a raised eyebrow. “If you don’t follow me, you don’t get seat.” He said, as if he knew Clint knew that already. He was looking very pleased with himself- And he was. Even though he had been hoping to make Clint lose his composure… Well, that would come later, then.

Clint scowled after him, gritting his teeth - but he’d like some food after all this, and to be able to eat it sitting, so after a few moments he sulked after Vladimir. People stared, and he tried not to pay attention - but he noticed, and he heard them laugh.

He dropped his grin the moment he stepped into the hall, and shot a sharp glare at the table that had laughed. They shut up very quickly. After all, just last week Vladimir had beaten up his old cellmate because of… Well, no-one but Vladimir knew that. And he wasn’t exactly about to tell everyone. He gestured for the men on one of the tables to move over and they did, leaving enough room for both Vlad and Clint. No doubt they knew that Vlad had decided that he liked this one, which meant anyone who even tried fucking with him would disappear, never to be seen again.

Clint scowled a little as he caught Vladimir’s eyes. It was clear enough that Vladimir wanted him to join him, and it seemed he didn’t have any choice, since the guys he’d sent off were now standing by the doors, eating with their trays pressed to their chests. He grabbed his plate and moved over, lips pressed into a thin line as he sat down next to Vlad.

With a hum, Vladimir quietly pushed his slice of bread over from his plate to Clint’s. The rest of it was a sloppy mess of… Something. Vladimir had long since stopped trying to guess. (he had though Chilli for this meal, but he still didn’t know). After a moment he started shovelling food into his mouth. He found that eating it quickly was better than trying to guess what the flavors were.  

Clint rose his eyebrow, looking from the bread to Vladimir and back to the bread. “You trying to pay me?” he muttered, taking a big bite of whatever they’d mashed and served them and managing at least a little to ignore the taste. “I don’t need charity.”

“I like you. And bread make it taste better.” Came the reply between mouthfuls, and, in four minutes flat, he was done. He grimaced and downed the bottle of water that had come with the tray.

Clint hesitated, but after a moment he did snatch up the bread. “You’re not going to ask anything in return?” he asked before he dared to take a bite.

“I already took my payment.” He said, glancing over to where he knew the other Russians were sitting, playing poker. He was half tempted to go over there, but he knew he would win, and knowing when you would win was boring.

Clint could feel his cheeks flush ever so slightly, and ate on in silence. It was true, the bread did make it somewhat better, but he also downed his water immediately afterwards to get rid of the taste.

Vladimir chuckled quietly. “I would say it get’s better, but it doesn’t.” He told him, and then shouted something to someone who had just walked in, before standing up and walking over to the man.

Clint stayed at the table, nursing the last of his water as he watched, unsure if he hoped Vlad would get himself into trouble or not.

The two men embraced, speaking quickly in Russian to each other. It was a moment before the man moved off to sit with the other Russian men and Vladimir came back over to sit next to Clint again.

“A friend?” Clint wondered, glancing over to the table where he could hear some Russian conversation going on now. He wanted to ask why Vladimir wouldn’t sit with the other Russians, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

“Mhm. He works for my brother. Good man.” He said before drinking the last of his water. “You done?” He asked, glancing over at Clint.

“Your brother. Do I want to know what he does?” Clint wondered. “Don’t answer that, I probably don’t. I’m done, yeah.”

He took Clint by the upper arm and pulled him up, dragging him from the room. He hated being in there for too long. It gave him a weird feeling that he couldn’t quite place, but he didn’t like it.

“Ow- hey, I can walk.” Clint yelped, trying to pull his arm free and failing.

“Doesn’t matter. I can carry you if you want. I wouldn’t object.” He muttered as he dragged Clint out, trying to make it sound suggestive but failing.

Clint snorted softly. “Sorry, I’m not really into the whole caveman thing.” he snarked, trying to keep up so Vlad at least wouldn’t be dragging him along.

He pulled him up to their cell and shoved him inside before dragging the door shut. It locked automatically and Vladimir breathed a soft sigh of relief.

Clint stayed frozen in his spot, warily eying the door. “You going to be alright?” he wondered, not very reassured by the fact that he was now pretty much locked in here. “What was all that about?”

“Nothing.” He mumbled, laying down on his bed.

Well… At least it seemed like he wasn’t going to get violated. Clint hesitantly sat on the edge of his own bed and asked, genuinely this time, “Are you alright?”

He curled up, back to Clint, and yanked the blanket over his head. There were times when everything was just too much for him

Well, his loss. Clint slowly moved to get under the blankets - he didn’t have a toothbrush yet anyway - and closed his eyes, deciding he might as well try to get some sleep.

Vladimir felt like he was actually going to die of embarrassment when he felt the first tears start to slide hotly down his cheeks. He hadn’t cried since he first got into the prison. Clearly this kid was making him soft.

At first Clint tried to ignore it. He really did, from the moment he heard the first telltale sniffling to when he could see Vlad’s shoulders start to shake. He swallowed thickly, then sighed softly and got up. “Vlad?”

He tried to choke back his sobs, curling up further and biting his lip hard.

“Vlad.” Clint hissed, sitting down on the edge of Vladimir’s bed and lightly stirring his shoulder, though he wasn’t sure what else to say. “Hey.”

Vladimir tried to push away his sobs to reassure Clint that he was fine, but he couldn’t. He whimpered, feeling the wetness under his cheek.

“Hey, it’s alright. I don’t… I don’t know what happened, but it’ll be fine, alright?” Clint tried awkwardly.

He pressed his back against Clint’s knee, shuddering and trying to wipe away his tears.

Clint grimaced a little and patted his shoulder. What was the crap SHIELD psychologists always said? “You… Want to talk about it?”

He gave a tiny shake of his head. He didn’t know what was wrong himself, so he couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“Alright.” Clint muttered, settling for just rubbing his back, giving Vlad’s side a small squeeze. “Want me to leave?”

“No.” He mumbled, shifting closer. Really, all he wanted was actual human contact that wasn’t forced, or fists hitting him. He was tired of being… Well, being so terrifyingly in charge that no-one wanted to touch him or even go near him.

“Alright.” he repeated, moving a little closer. This was… Very different from the kiss. But alright. He’d handle it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He shuffled a little bit closer, closing his eye

s. A quiet noise of some sort of emotion that even Vladimir couldn’t put a name to slipped from his throat as he curled up further into Clint’s warm knee.

Clint sighed softly, pressing back against him. “Move over. Make some room.” he said finally, though he doubted they’d fit on the small bed.

He nodded, quietly shuffling over and letting Clint climb into his bed.

Clint moved laid down next to him, though he stayed on top of the covers, and wrapped an arm around Vladimir, pressing against him so he wouldn’t fall off the edge. “Are they going to have a head count or anything?”

“No” He hummed. “But they do have cell checks every few weeks. We had one yesterday” He sighed contentedly. It was always cold in the prison, and even though he was used to the cold, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“Alright.” he nodded softly. He’d mostly been worried about what a guard would say if they were found like this, but clearly he didn’t need to. “Anything else I should know about?”

“Just one thing. I have dreams. Bad dreams. Or good ones, depending on your view.” He said quietly, sighing.

“You mean there’s people who don’t have those?” Clint said dryly. “You don’t complain about me waking up in a cold sweat, I won’t complain about you.”

He chuckled. “I won’t. But you might not feel that in the morning when you wake up.” He didn’t explain any further.

“That kind of bad dream. I was wondering about how they could be good already.” Clint groaned, covering his eyes with his arm. “You’re terrible. I have the worst cellmate.”

He laughed, tucking himself further into the blankets. “No, I am best. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Can you go back to crying? I think I preferred you crying.” Clint huffed, keeping his eyes closed. “You better not try anything if I get morning wood.”

“I’m not making any promises.” He mumbled, shifting a little bit. “Sleep now.”

  
“Fine.” Clint muttered, closing his eyes. “Don’t push me off.”


End file.
